


It's Gonna Be Okay

by Talinor



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Dysphoria, M/M, Modern AU, Trans Angel, Trans Rhys, i don't know how to accurately tag this but i hope it's okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talinor/pseuds/Talinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One thing could be said for Daniel- the kid was quite the convincing actor. He almost didn’t notice the slight wince when Rhys said his name.<br/>Something was off, and Rhys was definitely going to find out what it was. No matter what. <br/>-<br/>AKA Rhys gets a nanny job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daniel

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I am not a trans person myself. I just hope that i portrayed it correctly. If there's something you want to correct, tell me!

As a child, he was pretty well behaved. He smiled warmly when they called him by his birth name; he ignored the sinking feeling in his chest every time he was called a ‘petite polite girl’ or a ‘nice young lady’. He’d always wanted to break free from the bonds of their judgement, but he used to be too afraid to.

He was too afraid to speak out, to correct the elderly woman at church when she called him by his former name. He was too afraid of the judgment, of the hushed whispers uttered behind his back when they thought he wasn’t able to hear every word.

_She’s wrapped in delusions of grandeur,_ they’d think. _Believing she’s anything other than a confused young teenager in a phase she’d grow out of._

As if he’d grow out of looking at his body in the mirror every morning and hating himself. As if his state of mind was a phase, as if his feelings could be waved off and labeled as ‘teen angst’.

_Her poor parents,_ he’d hear them say at the town’s only grocery store. _If she were_ my _daughter, I wouldn’t stand for her nonsense._

He’d feel sorry for that person’s child. How they had to live with a person like that, how they’d likely live close-minded believing the lies he’d been taught since birth. And if they were like him- how they’d grow up despising their very being because it was what they were taught to do. Only time would tell what broke first- the eggshells they treaded on in order to be accepted by everyone around them or themselves.

_God doesn’t make mistakes,_ the preacher would tell him. _You’re simply confused._

In a way, he was confused. He was confused as to how his family, the two loving parents cooing over their beloved only daughter, could look at the son they’d raised together as if he was less than the dirt under their shoes.

There was only one person who stopped the blade at his wrist, who kept him from finally falling off the cliff’s edge he teetered on every single day. His best friend, Vaughn. They’d met online in a chat room five months before he’d realized who he really was.

>v can I tell you something?  
>>ofc. what is it?  
>so I’ve been researchin n stuff for a while  
>and i’m kinda scared to tell anyone else this yet but i trust you so  
>i think i’m trans but i’m not fully sure and it’s really kinda confusing  
>i just know it feels right  
>>okay  
>>is there a name you want me to call you or do you wanna think about it?  
>…Rhys.  
>>well rhys, i just want you to know  
>>i’ll be here for you, okay?  
>>even if you’re a robot or a huge alien monster or smth like that  
>if i was either of those things, you’d be the first to know  
>>good  
>>bc no matter what you look like, if someone talks crap about you i’ll fight them  
>>I won’t win but I’ll still try

Rhys remembered he could barely see the glowing screen through the tears that blurred his vision. The notion of someone in his corner made everything worth it. Because no matter if people called him ugly names, there was someone to catch him when he wanted desperately to fall.

There was someone to take him in when his parents finally kicked him out for being a ‘difficult indecisive (and especially ungrateful for God’s generous gifts to her) bitch’. Those were his mother’s words, not his own. It still appalled him how such a seemingly loving and tender woman could call him those terrible things. How someone who held him dearly with soothing words could drop him now like she’d been handed a bundle of feces.

But that was okay. Her hatefulness washed off of him like water off a duck’s back. If he’d taken the poisoned words to heart, it’d cause him a smorgasbord of mental disorders. He couldn’t remember when, but at some point in his life he learned not to listen to the naysayers. He learned that no matter how dark it was in the tunnel of life, no matter how cramped and crushing it felt, there was always a guiding light with much more space. All you had to do was keep crawling on day after day.

Was it hard or agonizingly difficult at some periods? Yes. Did it end up being worth it? Definitely.

_Blood is thicker than water,_ his father sometimes said. He presumed it meant that the bond to those you were born with was always stronger than those made to those you connected to throughout your life. That blood-bond tied to him like an iron chain. Blood is thicker than water, even when that blood is spoiled and spilling down your throat. 

But now he understood the real meaning. The blood of the covenant, the people you choose to be around, is thicker than the water of the womb. That knowledge alone was so liberating, as if he’d been a caged bird all his life and now he could finally fly free. It felt like he could finally take a breath after an eternity of oxygen deprivation.

After years of paranoia and fear, he could finally breathe easy. After years of biting down on a frail lie, his tongue could finally spill truths like an ocean as far as the eye could see. Love from friends was so wonderfully overwhelming after being tormented for something he could never truly help.

It was wonderful to live in the future after being forced to live in the past for so long.

-

Rhys felt a hand shake his shoulder before he opened his eyes. “Rhys,” The ever-familiar voice of his roommate (and still very much his best friend) Vaughn whispered. “Bro, wake up.”

Rhys moved his head to the side and cracked open the eye in the general direction of the other’s voice. He groaned at the sudden influx of sunlight in the room. 

“Okay,” He felt Vaughn move off the bed, giving him space to sit up and stretch his tired limbs. “I’m up, I’m up. What is it?”

“Just wanted to make sure,” Vaughn spared a glance at the sleek black alarm clock by Rhys’ prosthetic charging station. “But isn’t your job interview at 9?”

Rhys nodded, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “Yeah, why?”

“It’s 7:57 right now.”

He practically jumped out of bed with a shocked _“What?!”_ He could’ve _sworn_ he set an alarm for 7. His morning routine took time, time he now knew he didn’t really have much of. It’d take at least half an hour to preen himself up and pick out something presentable to wear from his closet. The client lived in an expensive apartment about 45 minutes away with minimal traffic. But there was absolutely no way of telling how bad it’d be on the road today.

It was a shame, really. The client was actually really rich, a rare occurrence for the small agency he worked at. Not to mention he was more than willing to pay a lot of money for proper care of his son while he was away at work every day. Most clients would be sympathetic towards him if he was slightly late, but that luxury was almost assuredly lost on this one.

Hastily, he searched through his closet for anything somewhat closely resembling formal wear. There had to be something presentable in here somewhere. He just had to find it as quickly as he could.

His teal dress shirt and dark gray vest? That worked well enough. His skinny red tie and pinstripe business pants? Hell, why not? He didn’t really have much time to scrutinize himself on his own outfit choice.

He closed the closet door, putting his back to the wall to undress himself quickly. It was a menial task, so he let his mind wander. Shimmying into the pants became a time estimate of how long it’d take for him to drive to the client’s home. Slipping his arm through the shirt sleeve became wondering whether or not to waste precious minutes on his hair here in the apartment’s bathroom or to spruce it up slightly on the drive there. Buttoning up the dress shirt became the decision to just work on his hair on the way.

“Rhys,” Vaughn’s muffled voice sounded from the other side of the closet door. “Is it okay to come in?”

Though they’d both seen each other naked at least once (he’d forgotten to lock the door while taking a shower one time), it was nice to know that Vaughn would still ask for the sake of his friend’s privacy. “Yeah, I’m good.” With that the door slid open, revealing the shorter man holding his fully-charged prosthetic in one hand.  
“Want some help or…” The question trailed off at the taller man’s nod. The two worked together to scrunch the empty sleeve up, Rhys keeping it in place while Vaughn worked the arm into place on his port.

He’d always had some form of prosthetic. Being born with a stump arm made sure of that, and it had always made him stand out like a sore thumb in his small home town. But being just the crippled young girl earned him pity he never wanted, fake sympathy from aunts and uncles he barely remembered the names of. Being the crippled young man earned him scorn, burning and bleeding bites of anger and disgust instead of butterfly kisses of tender hands helping him because his hands were full. Apparently his physical disability was more important than what they classified (and ended up waving off) as a mental disorder.

They didn’t call him transgender or dysphoric, they called him depressed and hopelessly confused about his own identity. It took him a long while to realize nothing was wrong with him. At least, not in the sense they were convinced he was. He wasn’t a freak; he was different from the social norm. That might as well have been the same exact thing.

When some company had offered him a free new cybernetic prosthetic at the cost of free experimental surgery to make it easier to put on, he’d agreed despite the many warnings from his friends.

It was weird at first, seeing the stump replaced by a giant port built into his body. But it had been worth it to be able to put his prosthetic on all by himself. Now he didn’t have to depend on someone else to help with the process in the morning. Sure, help putting his arm was still nice once in a while, but now it was optional instead of formerly being mandatory.

“There we go,” Vaughn muttered to himself as the prosthetic successfully latched into the port. “Sasha’s making pancakes in the kitchen, be sure to grab something to eat before you go.”

Rhys smiled, rolling his eyes jokingly. “Thanks Dad, I will.”

“Joke all you want,” Vaughn stepped out the closet, looking back at Rhys through his glass lenses. “But I know you, and I know you’d forget if I didn’t remind you.” …He had a point there honestly. He’d lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his neck some days.

“…Yeah, I know.” He confessed as he started heading out the closet to the bathroom the two men shared. It was relatively small, but it was good enough to freshen up in quickly. He looked at his face in the mirror, noticing the harder edges where soft curves had once been. Those square shoulders he used to hate were welcomed openly; his lanky sticklike legs he’d once scrutinized were now perfect in his eyes. “And Vaughn?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” He guessed that Vaughn took it as appreciation for waking him up, but it was so much more. That one word couldn’t even begin to describe the gargantuan appreciation for everything that he’d done for him, really. If it wasn’t for Vaughn, he’d be dead by now- by his own hand or someone else’s.  
He saw his best friend smile in the reflection of the mirror. “No problem, bro.”

After quickly combing his hair to look somewhat okay and doing his business, he rushed out the bathroom to the apartment’s hallway. It only occurred to him he’d forgotten something when he felt the cold tile against his bare feet.

He’d forgotten his shoes. Of _course_ he did. At least he caught his own stupid blunder before he stepped out of the apartment building.

Most of his shoes were worn out or somewhat new converse, and something in his gut told him sneakers with a suit probably wasn’t a very professional look. Guess the expensive light gray faux alligator skin shoes had to work for today. They were kinda small, but not too small that they wouldn’t fit on his feet. They were just really cramped. But he handled going through a day of crushing pressure on a different part before, cramped toes were nothing compared to that.

Alright, take two of walking to the living room. Hopefully he hadn’t forgotten anything else important. He had his wallet in his pocket, the keys to his car, and his vest was open but squarely on his shoulders. To his knowledge, he wasn’t missing anything important. Good.

With that, he set for the door. He didn’t really have time for anything other than a quick breakfast. It was already 8:18; he needed to get going if he wanted to be there on time. Eating could wait until later.

He heard a very certain someone clear her throat as he reached for the doorknob. He looked to the small kitchen, his eyes met with the sight of Sasha looking at him expectantly. “Well,” She said to him, gesturing to a plate with two overlapping chocolate chip pancakes. “Aren’t you gonna have something before you go? These were the first ones.”

Of course, at that moment his brain apparently decided to shut off and let him figure out what to say by himself. He stood there like an utter idiot before nodding and taking the plate from the counter. “Thanks.”

She shrugged it off, tending to the works in progress getting fried in the pan. “You’re welcome, dumbass. Good luck.” Though her words might’ve offended someone who didn’t know her, he knew her well enough to know ‘dumbass’ and ‘idiot’ were just her non-typical terms of endearment. She wasn’t someone he would’ve expected to become roommates (or friends) with, but he was glad for her company. She always had a… fresh perspective and would tell him outright if he was being stupid. Which, no matter what Sasha says, doesn’t happen often.

Rhys opened the door, stepping through and reaching into his pocket for the keys with one hand. The other held the plate firmly while he locked the door.

-  
He wished he could say he wasn’t expecting traffic to suck terribly, but he kinda did. And of course life apparently didn’t want to disappoint him today. Out of all the times he could’ve been late, why today? Guess wondering about it (and cursing God or whatever higher being apparently decided they hated him today) didn’t really make the backup clear faster.

He breathed out a sigh of frustration. Maybe if he’d had more time this morning, maybe if his alarm clock had actually decided to wake him up instead of staying silent, he would’ve been there already. Or at the least he’d be closer than he was right now. Then again, there was no real telling what would’ve happened. What might have happened, what had a slim chance of happening. Talking in hypotheticals would get him nowhere.

But it did help him pass the time while he was alone in the rundown yellow car.

With every inch forward his vehicle crawled, he glanced over to the clock on the car’s built-in radio. Time moved slowly, but it felt like he watched it crawl away with the chance he had in this job. Maybe he checked the clock in some foolish hope that maybe (just maybe) time decided to be kind on him and stopped until he could make it out of this horrific back up. Yet, as his more logical side predicted, it never happened. Time kept going on and on at a snail’s pace, minute after minute fluttering away from him.

Vallory (the woman in charge of the small agency Rhys worked for) wouldn’t be too happy to find out he’d messed up this ripe opportunity. He’d heard the woman was downright horrifically scary when she was angry. He’d never wanted to find out if that was true or not, but current circumstances were almost definitely pointing him in that direction right now.

Well, he’d had somewhat of a good life. At least recently. If he died at the hands of his pissed off boss, he wouldn’t really have any regrets. Except maybe accidentally kicking Fiona and Sasha’s old dog once a year or so ago before it died.

Apparently life wanted to give him a break for once, or maybe it’d heard his halfhearted prayers laced with curse words, and took pity on him by letting traffic move quicker. It was still slow as hell, but now his car was constantly moving instead of stopping and going a couple inches over and over.

He looked over to the clock once more- 8:49. If he was extremely lucky, he could make it on time. He’d be cutting it close, but he’d on time. That’s what mattered most to him right now.

For the third time that morning, he muttered a slight “Thank you” to whoever was up there. Or whatever decided to give him a break, he wasn’t very picky.

8:57, he pulled up to the property. It wasn’t the showy mansion he was expecting, but it was still quite impressive. Shining marble decorated the porch watching over the entrance below, an overseer watching the car with an expression he couldn’t quite read at this distance. Before he could sneak another glance at the man, he moved inside.

Parking the car somewhere took about a minute, the habit of checking the clock still unbroken. _It doesn’t matter,_ he told himself. _You’re already here, don’t worry about it so much. Calm down, take a breath, and most importantly- don’t do something stupid._ He could easily follow the first two pieces of advice, but only time would tell if he could do the third.

Rhys was immediately greeted by the sight of a man walking up to him from the house (well, mansion really). To say the man was built like a truck and looked like he could pick one up wouldn’t have been an overstatement. If he really wanted to, he could definitely lift a twig like Rhys with one hand and throw him to the moon.  
He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“I-I, uhm,” Rhys tried to greet while getting out the car and trying to act casual. The only change in the man’s neutral expression was the slightly-raised eyebrow. He cleared his throat, trying (and probably failing horribly) to keep the stammering under control. “I mean, hi. My name’s Rhys, and-”

“Are you Vallory’s agent?” The man’s voice was unsurprisingly gruff, nonchalant as the man noticeably sized Rhys up. Even though he was taller than the man by a few measly inches, they both knew who was in charge.

“Yes, sir.” He said with a curt nod. He kept his exterior under control, but his interior was a different story. His heart was beating faster than it probably should, no matter how he tried to keep it under control. “Can I ask who you are?”

“No,” Was the immediate answer. Like some kind of honed reflex committed to muscle memory. “I’m just supposed to show ya’ around, introduce you, and all that shit. You don’t need my name for that.” The man gestured for Rhys to follow him and started heading back to the mansion.

It took a second to get his legs to work properly and follow after the other man. The gardens visible in front along the walkways weren’t anything elaborate or special, but it was nice in its own simplicity. It didn’t look like the gardener was trying much too hard. Not to mention it was probably better to observe his surroundings than the stranger walking beside him.

“Mr. Lawrence was going to give you the tour himself,” The man explained to him as he opened one of the giant glass doors for Rhys. “But he had to go into work early this morning. So, he called me.”

Rhys almost didn’t process the words; he was too busy looking at his ornate surroundings in awe. He would’ve never been able to dream up a luxurious home like this, let alone thought he’d be able to see it in person or step on the carefully polished linoleum floor. He could practically see his reflection in the tile.

The slam of the front door snapped him out of it, making him jump in his skin slightly. “So,” The man gestured to a peach-colored door, the only one on its side of the second floor. “That’s Daniel’s room. You’ll meet him soon enough.” There were other doors, other visible hallways, but the man pointed to a tan door on the opposite wall facing the other bedroom. “That’s Mr. Lawrence’s room. It would… probably be in your best interest to stay out of there if you can.”

He’s pretty sure he heard the man mutter something about a death wish while he looked curiously at the area around him.

“I’d show you some of the other rooms, but he’s a better tour guide than I am.”

Rhys looked to him in confusion. “That’s it? I’m hired?” That was… almost too easy. What was the catch, the underlying hook?

He nodded. “It’s basically a glorified nanny position. Good luck.” The man turned away from him to call out. “Daniel! Come out here and meet Mr. Carter!”

He couldn’t really pinpoint where it came from, but he heard the muffled call of “Coming!” before hearing the click of a door unlocking.

Daniel stepped out of his room and looked out at Rhys, the two taking the opportunity to observe the other. He was a teenager, probably around 13 or 14, and probably a head or so shorter than him. With the pictures he’d seen of Jack Lawrence, he hadn’t expected his son to look so… different. While all the colors that made up Jack seemed warm, Daniel’s seemed cold.

The only thing father and son had in common were those icy blue eyes that seemed to look into you, to see into your soul with barely any effort. Both pulled off that look that could chill you to the bone rather well.

Daniel moved down the stairs with ease, a smile on his face. If Rhys didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have known that was a forced I’m-trying-to-look-happy-but-I’m-not smile. But he could get to the bottom of that later. After all, he had quite a lot of time to try to find out what was troubling the teenager.

He looked up to Rhys with a polite look (obviously practiced), one hand in his way-too-big light gray hoodie. “Hi,” He greeted, the soft voice another surprise. “I’m Daniel Lawrence, nice to meet you.” He extended a pale hand towards Rhys.

He took it, giving it a slight shake before letting it go. “Nice to meet you too, Daniel,” He said with an easy smile. “I’m Rhys; you don’t have to call me Mr. Carter.”

One thing could be said for Daniel- the kid was quite the convincing actor. He almost didn’t notice the slight wince when Rhys said his name.

Something was off, and Rhys was definitely going to find out what it was. No matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General bonding, meeting Mr. Lawrence, and something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the slow update! i got off break and school has basically been kicking my ass.

Somehow the mansion was even more extensive than he’d imagined. It was easy to get lost in the vast halls alone, and he definitely would’ve if Daniel wasn’t there to lead him along. There wasn’t just one kitchen- there were three separate ones overall. There seemed to be an endless supply of doors leading to an infinite amount of different rooms. It was more overwhelming than he’d thought it would be, honestly.

It was weird to see someone with such a vast number of possibilities stay in his room, but who was he to judge? He didn’t know what it was like to be born into such a rich family, with a father too busy to take care of you himself but wealthy enough to hire someone else to do it.

His mother was a third grade teacher and his father was one of his home town’s few doctors. That didn’t leave much room for material wealth, especially after word got around of Rhys’ ‘condition.’ The problem with small towns- they were quiet. Quiet enough that people won’t even tell you if they have a problem with you.

They’ll just punish your parents. Because if they couldn’t ‘correctly’ raise their own child, how could they possibly be trusted with someone else’s?

The stress of making ends meet with how few people trusted their family and how physically frazzled his parents became because of their ‘selfish’ daughter was probably the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The last day he’d called his childhood home the place where he lived, he’d come home to find his mother with both hands on her temple. She sat at the old polished oak desk they’d once went over Rhys’ homework at, the papers scattered messily on the surface filled with everything but simple questions with simple solutions. When she heard him walk up to her, she’d turned and looked to him with an expression forever burned into his memory.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and they bore into him with an emotion he’d never seen on her usually loving face- seething and blind hatred. As if he’d barged in to her house and murdered her dear daughter in front of her or he was a demon possessing and defiling her daughter’s body to the point where it was nearly unrecognizable. Either option probably wasn’t too far off in others’ opinions.

“Mom, what-” He’d started in a concerned attempt to help her. This was unintentionally his fault, and he’d wanted to make it up to her. As if it was his obligation to apologize for finally becoming who he was. But he was naïve then, thinking that he could soothe the fire his mother had in her eyes to a warm ember.

That hadn’t been the case.

“Get. **Out.”** She’d said with a rare hard tone of voice. She’d practically shook, her eyes shining with threatening tears. 

“Mom, please just-” He’d protested, practically rooted to the spot.

“No!” She’d screamed at him. “This is all your fault! You… you _ungrateful bitch!”_

Needless to say, he’d left and hadn’t tried talking to his family since. Most of his aunts and uncles took the same stance, or he knew they probably congratulated his mother after hearing she’d gotten rid of the black sheep.

“-Rhys?” At hearing his name, he snapped back to the present world. Daniel was looking at him with concern, and he realized he had been on the verge of tears. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Rhys nodded and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” He said. “Just got a little… lost in thought, I guess. What were you asking?”  
Daniel sighed, taking a second to almost unnoticeably compose himself again. “I… was asking what you usually did,” His voice got softer at the following sentence. “Something tells me looking after some rich kid isn’t usually in your career description.” The words were said as a joke, but humor was just the veil hiding the real emotion.

“Well,” Rhys confessed. “It kinda is. I mean, not specifically- usually it’s babysitting for a few hours so the parents could go out on a date night or whatever. Nothing quite as permanent as this job.” He looked to the other’s expression, noting the distant look. “…What about you? What do you usually do?”  
Daniel shrugged. “Not much, really.” He said truthfully. “I just usually stay in my room.” He moved to the stainless steel fridge, opening one of the doors. “Want something?”

Rhys took the liberty to sit on one of the barstools in the kitchen’s island. He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.” Daniel shrugged, grabbing some brand of soda in his hand before shutting the fridge door. The teenager moved to the only other chair- the one next to Rhys’. He could hear the carbon of the soda pop and fizz when the can was easily opened. The two sat there in kinda-awkward silence for a while.

Finally, Rhys decided to break the hanging silence. “So, is there anything you want to do?” He wasn’t really surprised when Daniel shrugged. “Come on, there has to be something to do.” Nothing. Still silence from the unresponsive teen.

He wracked his brain for ideas, something to help the other open up. He wasn’t expecting it to be quick process (Daniel didn’t seem like the open type of person) but hopefully he could get a hefty head start. He knew the type Daniel seemed to be. All he needed was something they both liked, something they could both talk about. What did Rhys like that they could bond over?

The answer came to him almost as soon as he mentally asked the question.

“Well,” Rhys spoke up again after a moment. “Do you like video games?”

-

Apparently the answer to that was a definite _yes._ Not only was it just that one word, it became an enthusiastic and in-depth explanation of one of his favorite franchises. He’d never heard of any of the three games before today, but other than the third’s shitty ending it sounded pretty solid.

After the rather passionate tirade was over, Daniel led Rhys upstairs to his room. It looked pretty regular, save for the fancy television on a polished black dresser and the expensive-looking cyan laptop shut on his bed. Not to mention the rainbow of games on the bottom two shelves of a pretty wide bookshelf. There were green, blue, and even some white tinted games arranged in neat and tidy rows, colors close if not next to each other. A few of the systems were placed by the TV, but he could see some wires sticking out of the bottom drawer.

He doesn’t exactly remember what (or how many) games they’d tried first, but now they were both cross-legged on the bed trying desperately to beat each other at Mario Kart. Daniel had won the first set of races overall, but Rhys won the second set (much to Daniel’s visible surprise). Now they were on the tie-breaker set, the races that would decide who won for nothing more than sheer bragging rights over the loser. And because he was apparently a masochist (or just really hated Rhys… or possibly both), Daniel picked Rainbow Road.

Out of all the possible maps, why that god-forsaken brightly colored space trap? A boost at the wrong time or with your bike facing the wrong way would easily spell your racer falling off into the cold unforgiving void of space.

The only other thing that pissed him off more than Rainbow Road was the fact that Daniel had barely fallen off so far. Sure, there was an accident once or twice, but that was it. Meanwhile Rhys groaned as Yoshi’s bike tumbled off the spectrum for the eighth time. He didn’t even need to check to see if the other had that smug look on his face- he just knew it was there. Taunting him because of how terrible his fictional driving was on this multicolored highway of hell with barely any borders.

And it was only the second lap. Rhys had to go through this torturous street at least one more time. Maybe the next upgrade could give him something useful, like Bullet Bill or… oh. He looked in surprise at the small icon at the top left corner of his side of the screen. He had a blue shell.

This could work. This could work very well for him. Daniel? Not so much.

Apparently he recognized the look on Rhys face and looked to the other half of the split-screen. “Don’t you dare,” He warned the older man. “I swear to God, if you-”

Yet whatever threat he was going to say ended up being too late. Rhys had already let it fly, the shell seeking its target like some heat-seeking missile. Now it was time for Rhys to be the one smugly grinning as he passed past.

The punches he got in his side were worth it to see the shock and surprise on Daniel’s face. Yet despite the slight bit of anger, he could see the other was trying to fight down a smile. “You’re an asshole, you know that right?”

“Maybe,” Rhys said with a shrug and a smirk as Yoshi crossed the finish line. “But I’m also the ‘asshole’ who won.”

“Still makes you an asshole,” He heard Daniel mutter under his breath as the map selection for the next race location loaded up on the screen. “No matter how you say it.”

“Alright, alright,” Rhys relented. “Touché.” 

(It turned out not to matter much anyways, considering Daniel ended up winning overall. Rhys didn’t really care; it was nice to see the teen warming up to him. He knew it’d be a slow process, but he was patient. Waiting was fine.)

-

He wished he could say he saved some time to do something else, but he really didn’t. If it wasn’t Mario Kart, it was some puzzle game he hadn’t heard of before now named simply- Portal. If it wasn’t Portal, it was the first game in the trilogy Daniel was so passionate about. It wasn’t a bad way to spend time, not at all. But it definitely wasn’t what Rhys was expecting when he was stressing about this job this morning.

Before he knew it, it was 8 pm. Lawrence’s schedule was uncertain at best, but it was clear that he should be back home to meet Rhys at around this time.

In all honesty, he was kinda nervous. Apparently Mr. Lawrence was not only the CEO of a successful company, he was the CEO of Hyperion. The Hyperion. Not only was the company huge, it completely dominated the technology industry. Most people had at least one device made from Hyperion, if not more than one. They openly boasted about their superiority, and while they were arrogant, most of their boasts rang true statistically.

Meeting the man in charge of such a sovereign company both kinda excited and terrified him. Who knew what such a man would be like? 

Well, Daniel knew (obviously) but it didn’t seem like the best topic to start off with between them. Especially considering the fact he might not be too fond of the father who hires nannies to look after him. It was understandable from both points of view, so he just kept his mouth shut for now. That was his best option.  
He expected someone fancy, a peacock dressed up in a way-too-elaborate suit. A snob with a stupid and probably very fake hairstyle that used way too much gel for anyone’s own good. He expected to gag on too-expensive cologne. He basically expected a rich person stereotype completely different from the casual man he’d seen in Lawrence’s files.

What he got instead wasn’t really expected, but it was a nice change.

“Dan!” A voice boomed from the front door at around 8:53. “I’m home!” The voice was loud, with an easy sense of confidence in it. Which made sense, considering.  
Rhys paused the game, heading for the door with a final smile pointed at Daniel. He hesitated for a moment before opening it, the familiar nervousness from this morning rising up again at the thought of finally meeting Mr. Lawrence.

He stopped in his tracks when he actually saw the man. He looked almost the exact same as the picture, save for the almost unnoticeable gray roots and the curious expression looking right back at him.

Lawrence motioned for Rhys to come over from the bottom floor, and he almost tripped on the stairs in his rush to come down. The man looked him over; eyeing him as if he were something Lawrence was considering whether or not to buy. He could only hope the slight smile he spied while the other man circled around him was a good thing.

Lawrence stopped in front of him. Even though Rhys was still a good few inches taller than him, he was still pretty intimidating. “So,” He finally spoke up again. _“You’re_ the kid Vallory sent? I mean, she said you were young, but _Jesus-_ you look like you’re 21 or something. How old are you?”

“I’m actually 29, sir.” Thankfully, he kept his voice calm this time.

“Okay, first off- I don’t want any of that ‘sir’ crap. I hear that enough from my employees. Just call me Jack.” Lawre- Jack only continued after Rhys nodded in understanding. “Second off- what about you? What’s your name, kiddo?”

“It’s Rhys.”

“Rees?” Jack sounded out. “What the hell kinda name is that? Sounds like that fuckin’ peanut butter candy.”

 _“Rhys,”_ He found himself correcting with as much politeness as he could muster. “Not Reese’s’.” It was probably a horrible idea to correct his new boss, but he wasn’t really known for having great plans for the future.

His heart leaped to his throat at the surprised look on Jack’s face. Something told him Jack getting talked back to (at least by his employees) wasn’t a very common occurrence. He shouldn’t have said anything- stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Now he was probably going to be fired after his first day- a pretty hefty record for almost anyone in his agency. Vallory would have his head for sure.

But instead of getting irritated or even angry, Jack cracked an easy grin. “Well Rhys,” He said, putting emphasis on the pronunciation. “I’ve had a pretty long day and you’re pretty cute, so I’ll overlook the lip. Bit of advice, though- don’t sass the guy giving you your paycheck.” There was an almost dangerous glint in those light blue eyes, obviously a part of the ‘big and tough intimidation’ act. It worked pretty well. Rhys found himself pretty intimidated. “We clear, cupcake?”  
Rhys nodded. “Crystal.”

“Good,” Jack moved past him and headed in the direction of the lower floor’s kitchen. He only stopped at the doorframe to look back at Rhys, who hadn’t moved from the spot he’d been standing. “I’ll see ya’ tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

-

It was actually pretty easy to settle into a comfortable schedule from there. School days were more lenient, giving Rhys time to relax at home with Vaughn and Sasha before he had to pick Daniel up from the snooty prep school he attended (and honestly, stuck out like a sore thumb at). He’d drive them both to the Lawrence mansion and they’d spend a few hours together until Mr. Lawre- Jack, he had to remind himself, got home from work. Sometimes ranting about some idiot intern spilling coffee on him or how his fellow board members were complete _idiots._

Weekends could vary wildly. Sometimes Wilhelm (the big guy’s name, apparently) would be available to watch over Dan for a few hours, sometimes not. Usually he’d have to cook something up for the two of them. Correction- he either let Daniel cook or he’d order something. Cooking wasn’t really his strong suit, but he’d had to be flexible- something the job hadn’t necessarily entailed, but also something he didn’t find himself minding much.  
He found himself liking the Lawrences a lot more than he thought he would. The three of them were a strange pseudo-family, but it was also comforting to be a somewhat small part of it. He didn’t bother wearing a suit after the first week. There was no real point in doing so. It was like dressing up just for the occasion of going home.

Jack was… odd at times, but inspiring. The man could talk for hours, just to hear his own voice. Usually that trait was anything but admirable in anyone, but it somehow just worked for him. He could listen to the man ramble and rant about global warming or how cute puppies were and Rhys would listen intently to every word. He opened up to Rhys pretty easily, joking and bringing a warm smile to his face with his stupid pet names and occasional teasing.

Daniel, however, was more reserved around the both of them. He opened up more easily to Rhys than his father, and he couldn’t fathom why. Maybe it was just his own bias talking, but Jack was a pretty nice guy. Maybe it was because the man wasn’t his father. He didn’t know how Jack acted when it was just him and Dan.  
Which is why he wasn’t really surprised when Daniel asked him for advice one day when the two had been goofing off in some game he couldn’t care to remember the name of.

“Rhys,” He’d spoken up softly, pausing the game. “Can I… can I tell you something?” The unusual shift in attitude, how quickly his smile had shifted to the quiet demeanor usually prevalent only around his father immediately snagged his attention. This was an important matter, even if it was only objectively so.

“Of course,” Rhys set his controller down next to him on the mattress, turning toward the teenager. “What is it?” His eyebrows knit together at the uncertain look the other had. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Daniel tried, and then trailed off. “No, well I mean, yes. I mean,” He sighed out in frustration, looking at Rhys with something he hadn’t seen in Dan before then. Fear and vulnerability, like he was prepared to bare something personal. “It’s… it’s complicated. And I don’t really understand it myself, but…”

“Dan,” Rhys said. “Take a breath. Relax. Nobody’s rushing you. What’s wrong?”

Daniel inhaled a deep breath, tense shoulders loosening slightly at the exhale. He was still visibly nervous about whatever he was going to say, but at least he was a little bit calmer now. “Okay, well, uhm…” He shifted, adjusting his legs in their crisscross position. He smiled bashfully. “I promise, this is important. But I… don’t really know where to start with it.”

“That’s okay,” Rhys reassured. “Take your time, Dan.”

Daniel gestured to him wildly, as if Rhys just proved whatever point he was bringing up. “That’s a part of the problem! I-I don’t really know why, but that name just feels… wrong. I hear it, and I… I don’t think it’s mine. Like- Like I’m in some stranger’s body.” He deflated at the stunned silence from the other man, looking down to the floor. “I know, it sounds stupid. Forget I ever-”

“No, no,” Rhys shook his head. “Trust me. It’s not stupid. I felt the same way when I was… 16 or so? I don’t remember what age exactly.”

Daniel looked back up to him in slight confusion. His insecurity was now replaced by curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t…” Explaining it was always difficult for him. To him, it was like explaining why you he was born with two legs. It was natural, something that had been a part of him all his life. Even before he truly realized it. “I wasn’t born a guy, technically. I felt like I was inside, but I wasn’t on the outside. At first, I thought it was just a phase. It’d go away if I ignored it. Needless to say, it didn’t.”

For what was probably the first time, Daniel was fully interested in what he was saying. Sure he’d always listened to Rhys (or at least he did most of the time), but it was like the teen was enraptured by the other’s words. “What did you do about it?”

“I transitioned.”

Dan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dear lord, he had a long way to go. But it would be worth it, he could tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: squishy--squish  
> i have about 4 or 5 chapters planned for this fic, but that might change. I have vague notes for what will happen in each one, but it's harder filling the detail in. i'll try to be as fast as i can with updates.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: squishy--squish  
> (btw, if you wanted to know my reasoning for the name- Daniel, also spelled Dânêl, is a fallen angel. thought it'd fit.)


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